Salvation
by McChanged
Summary: You’ve gotten good at playing two sides of a coin; devil for the queen and god for your angel. Except you’ve never made a tree so you’re not really sure where god fits in your title.
1. Chapter 1

_Title: Saving Grace_

_Pairings: take a guess._

_Rating: T for suggestion of a lot of things._

_Summary: You've gotten good at playing two sides of a coin; devil for the queen (of all evil of course) and god for your angel. Except you've never made a tree so you're not really sure where god fits in your title and red has always looked good on you._

_Notes: This is my first HSM fic and my first time with this writing style. I'm really self-conscious about this so let me know if I should just leave this (writing and characters) to the professionals._

_Disclaimer: I own nothing._

She loses her virginity in the back seat of her daddy's sports car, the way no one should. She's nineteen, and the only reason you know is because you're the one she called to ask how to get blood out of leather.

It would be tragic if it was anybody but her, but she blows your concern off with a callous remark and an under the breath comment about what a mistake that sixth shot of tequila was.

She's self-destructing at the age of twenty and there's not a damn thing you can do about it. You have your angel and have no time for fallen ice queens. Except your angel seems to have lost her halo (somewhere along the way the pedestal everyone put her on got a little too tall). Don't misunderstand, she's still standing precariously high, so high you can't even see her. You're irritated to know you don't remember when you stopped looking.

She's twenty-one and calling you from a department store bathroom. You're about to meet the princess to your prince but she's sobbing and you can't understand her and you're out the door before you remember she never mentioned _which_ department store.

The fallen is clutching a pregnancy test and you begin to think nose candy and martinis _shaken not stirred _are the least of her problems. The decision is made before you exit the bathroom and she walks out with her head held high, make-up refreshed and her own form of a dirty little secret tucked neatly in her purse.

You're her emergency contact and everything's working out really nicely until miss halo starts dropping hints. Big hints with words like _marriage_ and _kids_ that finds you throwing up in the bathroom from the pressure. You've gotten good at playing two sides of a coin; devil for the queen (of all evil of course) and god for your angel. Except you've never made a tree so you're not really sure where _god _fits in your title and red has always looked good on you. But the coin is being flipped too much and it's getting close to the time for decisions.

Redemption comes to you in the form of over-booking and_ really_ if you're god then scheduling problems like this would never happen. You make the decision with a ring in your pocket and directions in your hand. (You pray, if you did things like that, it's the right choice.)

She's pissed, like they're going to find pieces of your body months from now_ pissed_, but you don't care. (Maybe you never did.) You've thought about how to say this over and over again, but that speech you've said in your head a hundred times comes out differently. (A speech people expected you to say to another girl.)

She's pissed, like they're going to find pieces of your body months from now _pissed_, but you don't care. (Maybe you never did.) So you breathe deep and recite off a speech you were expected to say to another girl with brunette locks and the scent of cinnamon on her skin. (People should really stop underestimating you) Salvation never tasted (or smelled) so good.

Together you'll rule. (Hell of course.)

_Notes: So that's it. Yea, I know short and probably really confusing but let me know what you think. The end came out differently then I expected but I couldn't really decide how to end it. If you didn't guess the end pairing let me know and I'll PM it to you._


	2. Chapter 2

_Title: Saving Grace_

_Pairings: take a guess._

_Rating: T for suggestion of a lot of things._

_Summary: You've gotten good at playing two sides of a coin; devil for the queen (of all evil of course) and god for your angel. Except you've never made a tree so you're not really sure where god fits in your title and red has always looked good on you._

_Notes: So I agreed with my first reviewer and decided to add a second chapter to clear some things up. I started the first few lines thinking that's all the inspiration I'd get and this came out so enjoy. _

You manage to get to the restaurant three minutes ahead of schedule, which for you is a feat in of itself. She's shooting daggers at you the second you walk in, but you find yourself not caring.

Before you can even sit down she's talking. Princess is spewing words like inconsiderate, unprepared, and maybe even underdressed, before you even reach the table. (Clinics aren't exactly places you wear tuxes to but five-star restaurants are. Crap.)

The rings digs into your chest as you reach up to kiss her on instinct and you pull back before she makes contact. (It isn't for her, and maybe heartbreak will be easier this way.) The confused look on her face fades to anger again and you've realized your mistake too late. (She's always been too damn suspicious.)

The_ like a band-aid_ mantra has been running on repeat in your head for a solid two hours so you take you own advice and open your mouth. Her face reveals the variety of emotions she's feeling as you being to talk. (You leave out bathrooms and car backseats and pink plus signs for your own safety.)

It's over before it even began just like your relationship and you're out the door and in your car before she gets her best-friend on the phone. (You really hope she's moved her stuff out of you apartment before you get back.)

You manage (barely) to get there before the procedure begins. It's useless to try and talk her out of it, you've tried, and so you instead kiss her on the head and tell her you'll see her when she gets out. (You're still kind of hoping she backs out anyway.)

She doesn't and she doesn't speak either. (After, or maybe before, because a life has just ended and times become irrelevant.) You take her home, to hers not yours, and she's sobbing before the click of the door even sounds. It's terrifying, watching some shatter in front of you, but you pull her into your arms and wait till she falls asleep to carry her upstairs. (You sleep on the chair next to her because a guy invading her space is how this all started in the first place.)

You have ten new voicemails when you finally find you cell phone (in the jacket of the coat that your (ex) angel gave you for an anniversary present, irony anyone) but you hit delete because you can't and _won't_ deal with more then one issue at a time.

She comes down as you're finishing breakfast, hair wet regret tracing lines of agony across the face you once thought was impenetrable and you _know_ you made the right choice.

It's like that the next few months. Points of healing marked by points of pain, (what's redemption without guilt) so you hold her close and pray for the first time in your life.

Two years later you're running late to a different restaurant with a different girl, ring in your pocket and directions in your hand.

(The Queen and her Devil always did have a better ring to it.)

_Notes: So that's it, really this time. Review and enjoy._


End file.
